


Muggletology

by Snappy_Snippets



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bickering, Body Hair, Body Part Kinks, Crack, Draco and apples, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Flying, Grimmauld Place, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Featherplay, Implied Sexual Content, Implied Voyerism, Implied Watersports, M/M, Muggle Technology, Nudism, Open Relationships, Post-Hogwarts, Slash, body image issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-19 18:24:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4756487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snappy_Snippets/pseuds/Snappy_Snippets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In some ways, Draco's relationship with Harry Potter is one endlessly long lesson in Muggle Studies. And a badly taught one, at that. It's especially frustrating when this so-called <em>technology</em> is on the agenda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The morning after

Draco's head hurt. There was an awful wheezing, groaning sound in his ears, penetrating his entire body right down to its very core. His chest felt so heavy that he couldn't draw in a proper breath. His mouth was dry and it tasted as if a family of Flobberworms had been nesting there. He was sweaty and hot and the sheets weren't nearly as pleasant to the skin as what he was used to. There was a musky-sweet smell in the air. And then there was that something that was tickling his nose in the most annoying way.

Draco opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was a tangle of inky black hair.

Well, that actually explained a lot. The tickling, to start with. He tried blowing Potter's hair away from his face, but it was a predictably futile effort. The weight preventing him from breathing properly was Harry himself - sprawled all over Draco's chest, head nestled in the crook of Draco's neck. The sheets were the most ordinary kind of cotton, tangled and unpleasantly damp. The headache was most probably the effect of the firewhisky which had proven to be the final step on their road to losing the last of their inhibitions. And the taste and the smell... Well... The only thing Draco did _not_ understand was the incessant and highly painful sound coming from somewhere on the opposite side of the room.

He curled his hands around Potter's arms and shook.

'Potter.'

Harry stirred and groaned, but the speed of his reaction was not to Draco's standards, so he shook again.

'Potter.'

'Mmm...?'

'What the fuck is making this noise?'

Harry raised his head slightly and looked around sleepily.

'Oh, dammit,' he mumbled and his head fell back down to Draco's chest. 'F'got to turn off the alarm clock.'

'The what?'

'Alarm clock. On the cupboard.' Harry made an attempt to point, but his arm fell back down heavily. 

Draco fumbled with the tangled sheets and dislodged Harry from his chest. 

'Well, are you going to do something about it? The sound is driving me nuts,' he said irritably.

'Jus' turn it off,' Harry muttered, turning to lie on his stomach and resolutely covering his head with a pillow.

'How am I supposed to...?' Draco started, but Harry was already gone, the only thing visible being his arms and shoulders. Draco's eyes lingered on the bare skin for a moment. 'You're useless, Potter,' he remarked quietly and got out of the bed.

He walked in the direction of the sound. Indeed, it seemed to be coming from a strange object placed on the top of the cupboard. The object was very blue and light was flashing on and off from a protruding element at its top. The front seemed to be a door and, inexplicably, it had the words 'Police Phone Box' written on it. The door had two square windows, which were showing the numbers 07 and 01 - which Draco guessed was the current time. He looked around the object, to its other sides, but there was no indication of how to make the sound stop. Draco huffed, grabbed the object and shook it. The sound wavered but continued. 

He looked up at Harry. His position on the bed hadn't changed and so there was evidently no hope of any hints there. Draco looked back at the object. The wheezing, groaning sound was starting to make him nauseous. 

'Oh, fuck it.' He raised it above his head and threw it hard to the floor. The awful sound stopped.

Harry's head sprang out from beneath the pillow.

'What the fuck?!' he cried hoarsely, looking at Draco with wild eyes.

Draco looked at Harry, then at the object lying at his feet. The windows weren't showing anything anymore.

'Well, it's stopped.'

Harry looked at him incredulously. 

'I asked you to turn it off, not break it!'

'Well, I'm sorry,' Draco said in a tone of voice which did not suggest being apologetic at all. 'You weren't exactly being helpful and I needed a quick solution, my head was about to split open.' He strolled casually towards the bed. 

Harry's eyes dropped and he stared, transfixed, at Draco's naked form as he walked. When he plopped back on the bed, Harry raised the sheet for him.

'It had a button, you know.'

'What?'

'It had a button, the alarm clock. At the top. The flashy thing. Perfect for turning it off.'

Draco grumbled and lay down on his back. He twisted a little, getting comfortable under the cover. Harry turned to his side, propped himself up on an elbow and lay his other hand on Draco's chest, smiling gently.

'So you use something like _that_ to wake up...?' Draco shook his head. 'A decent waking spell and you could be opening your eyes to anything you like instead of these sounds of torment - birds singing, waves crashing, I don't know...' he waved his hand vaguely, 'Gryffindor lions roaring... people fucking...'

Harry chuckled.

'And why would you put it so far away from the bed? Do you have a masochistic streak I don't know about...?' Draco looked at Harry askance and raised an eyebrow.

Harry smacked him on the shoulder playfully.

'Whatever the method, waking up when you _have to_ and not when you _want to_ is masochistic... Anyway, when it's there on the cupboard and I have to get up to turn it off, it has a bigger chance of actually serving its purpose.'

'Well, excuse me, but from what I have seen today, it doesn't seem to be doing a very good job.'

'Yeah, the sound of it being _smashed_ worked, though,' Harry muttered, covering himself with the sheet more tightly and scooting over closer to Draco.

'And the noise! What a dreadful way to start the day. No wonder you're insufferable most of the time...'

Harry leaned in and his face hovered above Draco's, his lips curved in a small smile.

'That's not what you said last night.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the alarm clock [really exists](http://www.bbcshop.com/doctor-who/doctor-who-tardis-projection-alarm-clock/invt/dr190).


	2. Breakfast time

The best thing about staying over at Potter's was always the breakfast. Well, alright, not _the_ best thing. One of the best things.

Draco closed the bathroom door behind him and went down the narrow staircase. In the hall, he leaned in close towards the age-old curtain and said loudly, 'Good morning, aunt.'

The curtains flew open.

_'Yooou! Blood traitor, filth, pervert! How dare you befoul the house of your forefathers!'_

Draco smirked and went for the stone steps leading to the kitchen.

'Do you _really_ have to do that every - single - time?' Harry's exasperated voice reached him from downstairs over the sounds of the shouting.

_'The shame of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black! A filthy scar on its pure complexion!'_

Draco sauntered into the kitchen. The warming spell tickled the soles of his bare feet. 

Harry was standing by the counter, his back turned to Draco. There was a big wooden bowl in front of him and he was stirring something inside it slowly. The long table in the middle was already laid with an assortment of their usual breakfast staples - several varieties of jam, peanut butter, a can of whipped cream and a jar of Nutella. Draco felt his mouth water.

'You'll find, Potter,' he said casually, strolling towards Harry and gliding his fingers over the edge of the table, still eyeing the display, 'that I am accustomed to a certain daily amount of winding people up. And she is such an irresistibly easy target.'

'Doesn't seem like teasing her has saved _me_ from being the object of your snide remarks...' Harry looked over his shoulder, smiling.

Draco reached him and plastered himself tightly against his back, hands circling Harry's waist and clasping in front of him.

'Oh, but that's because you're an irresistibly easy target, too,' he purred into Harry's ear.

Harry chuckled. 'Right.'

_'Blood traitor! Stain of dishonour! Filth!'_

'Oh, for the love of...' Harry sighed. 'Would you please shut her?'

Draco didn't feel like letting go of Harry, however. He propped his chin on Harry's shoulder and looked into the bowl. He wrinkled his nose.

'Is this some kind of new toast topping...? I have to admit I've grown to appreciate your cooking, Potter, but this does not look at all appetising.'

Harry laughed.

'No, we're not having toast today.'

'Well, I'm not having that foamy, slimy soup for breakfast.'

'No, that's the batter.' Harry disentangled himself from Draco's grasp and moved along the counter. He pointed at a flat rectangular object, which seemed to be made of two parts. Steam was coming in wisps from the crack between them. 'I've bought a waffle maker and I'm going to make waffles. Look.' He opened what seemed to be the lid and more smoke came puffing out. The inside of the object had a strange checked surface. 'You just pour the batter inside and after a moment out come delicious waffles.'

'Yet another Muggle invention which you insist on presenting as if it did magic...' Draco grumbled, turning around and leaning against the counter.

'Well, it kind of does, in a way,' Harry shrugged, smiling.

_'Stain of dishonour! Deviant! Degenerate scum!'_

'She's not cutting you any slack today, is she?' Harry said, closing the lid carefully.

Draco waved his hand theatrically. 'It may have something to do with the fact that I recently made out with the vanquisher of the Dark Lord right in front of her for half an hour.'

'Yes,' Harry muttered, 'and I'm never drinking that much again...' He stirred the contents of the bowl once more carefully. 'Alright, I think this is ready...'

_'Dirty freak! Filthy cock-servant to the enemy of all that is pure!'_

'OK, I'm sorry, I can't cook in these conditions,' Harry said, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. He made for the stairs in quick steps. 'Don't touch anything!' he called without turning.

Draco took a long, speculative look at the bowl, then at the smoke-puffing object.

'Well, why the hell not,' he said to himself, pushing away from the counter. 'I've never had trouble with the toaster...' 

_'Yooou! Dirty half-breed! Child of filth! Enemy to all that is pure! Intruder in the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black! Disgusting abomination!'_

Draco moved the bowl closer to the - he searched his mind - ah, waffle, waffle maker. He raised the lid carefully and squinted as the smoke puffed. He picked up the bowl, held it above the waffle maker and tilted it. The slimy, foamy substance moved slowly down the side of the bowl and onto the checked surface. Suddenly, there was a loud, menacing sizzling sound and Draco's hands shook slightly. Oh, no, he wouldn't let some Muggle contraption have him that easily. He held his ground and kept pouring.

In the distance, he heard a victorious 'ha!' from Harry as Walburga's shouting faded and then stopped.

The sizzling continued as the substance spread across the surface. In a matter of seconds, it reached the edges and started oozing out over all the sides and puddling on the countertop. Draco pursed his lips, looking back at the bowl. It was almost empty. He hummed, settling it down.

He heard Harry's steps hit the stone floor and then stop abruptly.

'Oh, Draco...' Harry whined. 'I _told_ you not to touch anything.'

'Oh,' Draco turned, raising his chin, 'and when was the last time I followed your instructions...?' 

Harry raised an eyebrow and smirked, giving Draco a pointed look. 

Draco raised an index finger at him sharply. 'That doesn't count.'

Harry took a few steps in Draco's direction and rested one hand on Draco's hip. He reached out with his other arm and flicked a switch on the still sizzling waffle maker. 

He raised his eyes to look at Draco, smiling. 'So... toast?'

Draco nodded solemnly. 'You sit down. I'll make it.'


	3. Every Sunday morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, this chapter wasn't meant to be that long... Not sure how that happened exactly... Also, the series was supposed to be mainly crack, but it seems the boys just can't go without a bit of hurt/comfort. I hope you'll forgive all three of us. 
> 
> I tried to deal with a certain sensitive topic here in the most respectful and insightful way possible. If you find anything you dislike about how I made the insufferable duo navigate through it, please let me know.

Draco couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong.

First, there was the change of the breakfast menu. Suddenly, instead of jam, Harry started putting tomato on his toast. Savoury morning toast? Honestly.

Next, the evening runs. Four times a week, like clockwork. Not that he didn't appreciate the sweaty, hair-all-tousled look Harry bore when he came back, but there was still something off about this sudden interest in jogging. Like he hadn't already done enough running to last him a lifetime...

Then, there was the sex. Draco had never felt more spoiled, more indulged. It was as if all the attention was suddenly solely on him. Not that it was in any way unpleasant, mind you, and he wouldn't normally complain, but... sometimes he felt as if he was standing alone with a bright _Lumos_ above his head while Harry was retreating into the shadow.

And finally, there were the awkward Sunday mornings when Harry would close the bathroom door. Over the months of sleepovers, which had now concluded in Draco practically living at Grimmauld Place, they had developed a certain unspoken rule about the bathroom door being left open while they were performing their routine ablutions - a silent welcome for the other party to join if willing. 

But now, every Sunday, and only on Sunday, Harry would close the door. It didn't take him longer to reappear, but when he did, Draco could sense his attempts at covering up a foul mood. He was quieter, lost in thought and much less responsive to Draco's teasing. Draco usually doubled his efforts and managed to distract Harry first into a smile and finally a retort, but he soon discovered Sunday became his least favourite day. 

No amount of sly prodding proved to clear the mystery and Draco's direct questions were being brushed off with shrugs and clichéd replies.

 

'Really, Potter? Tomato?'

'What? I like tomatoes.'

 

'What's with all the running?'

'It really clears your head, you should try it.'

 

'Tell me what you'd like...'

'This is... great. Just... Let me... look at you. Touch you.'

 

'Is something wrong?'

'Nah, I'm fine... Just... got up on the wrong side of the bed, I s'ppose...'

 

It was time for an intervention. Most probably, a breach of confidence. Possibly, an invasion of privacy. It wouldn't be the first time fate had forced him to live by the 'the end justifies the means' motto, after all. 

Draco decided that a thorough investigation of the bathroom was his best bet. Whatever happened there on Sunday mornings had something to do with Harry's bizarre behaviour.

He knew better than to try it with Potter in the house. An opportunity presented itself shortly, however. It was an ordinarily foul-mood-free Monday and at four o'clock Harry was due to discuss funding opportunities at the headquarters of O-CHARM - 'Organisation for Children Abandoned by the Realm of Magic'. (Draco also knew better than to offer that 'Squib Squad' would have been catchier.)

As soon as the door closed and Draco heard the crack of Disapparition from behind it, he rushed upstairs. He stopped in front of the bathroom, took a deep breath and stepped inside, intent on taking in his surroundings with a fresh eye.

The black basin with its taps in the form of open-mouthed serpents was polished and reflected the light getting in through the window. Draco approached the basin and swept his fingers along its smooth edge. He squatted and looked underneath it, gliding his hands over every surface. Nothing. He straightened, turned and looked at the dark wooden cupboard. He opened it often enough to get a fresh towel or rummage through Harry's substandard cleaning products, looking for something to make disappear inconspicuously. He had already established there was nothing out of the ordinary inside. He leaned towards the wall and squashed his cheek against it to look behind the cupboard. He knew that the empty space he saw did not mean there was nothing there. He sighed and extended his arm, fitting it as far as possible into the narrow space and moving it up and down. Nothing. He stepped away to inspect his hand for dust and spider webs. Nothing. 

'Thank Merlin for Kreacher's unsolicited visits,' Draco muttered.

He gave the cupboard another once-over. It was standing on four heavy paw-shaped feet, which seemed to be digging their claws into the floor. Draco squatted again. The space between the floor and the bottom of the cupboard seemed to be empty, too. He reached out his arm to make sure.

And felt something tucked in deep towards the wall. He moved closer, balancing on his toes awkwardly, grabbed the object and pulled it out. It was hard, flat and rather heavy. And very invisible.

He looked at his seemingly empty hands holding the thing and scoffed. What way was _that_ to treat The Cloak of Invisibility, for Merlin's sake! Tucked in a dark corner. Under a bathroom cupboard, no less. Draco shook his head.

He peeled off the fabric to reveal a square silvery object made of metal and glass. He set it on the floor. His eyes instantly travelled to its top, recognising something which looked very much like the windows on what used to be Harry's blue alarm clock. But here, there was only one. Was this supposed to show time, too? He bent down further, touching the flat glass surface tentatively and suddenly lost his balance, falling forward, his extended arm supporting his weight, hand slamming onto the flat glass surface.

The window lit up and a vertical row of small symbols appeared close to its left edge, along with the letters 'KG' on the right. For a moment, a barrage of numbers flashed in the centre of the window, but as soon as he raised his hand it was gone and the numbers 0.0 appeared. 

Draco took a deep breath and knelt, settling himself in front of the object. Leave it to Potter to bring in yet another fucking Muggle article that was anything but self-explanatory.

He touched the surface with his index finger and pressed gently. The numbers flashed again, changing quickly up to about 5 and going back to 0.0 as soon as he stopped pressing. He did the same thing, this time pressing with the palm of his hand. The numbers flashed and went up to 17.4. 

Draco hummed. The object seemed to be responding to pressure and showing its force in some strange kind of numerical system. Was this something that Muggles used for exercise? To check how strong their hands were? Why would Harry need something like this? And why would it make him all broody?

Draco stood up and straightened his clothes. He gave the object a scathing look. 

'What _are_ you?' he asked and instantly regretted it, realising how completely insane he was being.

Then all of a sudden, a new thought occurred to him. If it was all about exerting pressure on the flat surface, then the best results would be achieved by using one's entire body weight. Now that he thought about it, the size of the object was roughly equal to the space his feet would occupy if he were to stand on it. After all, what was the worst thing that could happen?

Draco placed one foot on the flat surface. He inhaled, shut his eyes and quickly stepped on the object with his other foot.

Nothing happened. The object didn't break under his feet, didn't make any noise, there was only an almost imperceptible swaying for a split second and then everything was still. Draco exhaled. He opened his eyes and looked down. In the window, the number 60.4 blinked a few times and then remained displayed. Draco stepped back onto the floor. The number stayed there for a moment longer, then the window was back to displaying 0.0.

'What in the name of Salazar...' Draco muttered.

He sighed. There was nothing to it. He would have to wait for Potter and ask him what in the bloody hell that was.

***

Draco never shied away from the dramatic. When, having called Draco's name a few times from the ground floor, Harry finally stepped into the bedroom in search for him, the object was lying on the floor in the middle of the twilight-filled room and Draco was sitting in an armchair, facing the door.

Harry stopped short and his face fell instantly when his eyes landed on the object.

Draco folded his arms.

'What is this, Potter?'

Harry's eyes narrowed and his lips locked in a tight grimace.

'Snooping around, Malfoy? Really?' he said through clenched teeth.

Draco looked at him evenly.

'I needed to know what was going on with you.'

'Nothing is going on with me!' Harry yelled, flinging his hands into the air.

In response, Draco only raised his eyebrows and tilted his head pointedly.

Harry growled and turned his back to Draco, breathing heavily.

 _This is more serious than it seemed,_ Draco thought. Drama and teasing were not going to prove useful here. Another strategy was needed. He gave Harry a moment longer to calm down, then stood up and approached him slowly. He put his hands on Harry's shoulders.

'Harry, please tell me what is going on,' he said softly.

Harry sighed and moved away, stepping across the room, eyeing the object on the floor. He fell into the armchair and rubbed on his face with his hands. He was silent for a while and Draco waited patiently, turned towards him but giving him his space.

'Scales,' Harry said finally, on an exhale.

'Scales...?' Draco repeated slowly. 'Like for weighing things...?'

'Like for weighing _people_ ,' Harry said impatiently, dropping his hands onto his lap and looking up ad Draco.

Draco thought he had been confused before, when he had found the blasted thing, but it had been nothing in comparison to how utterly lost he was feeling now. The time called for desperate measures. He moved across the room slowly and knelt on the floor in front of Harry.

'Harry,' he said gently, 'I have absolutely no fucking idea what you are talking about. You have been behaving strangely recently and I don't understand what's happening. I'm worried. I can see something is going on with you, but you insist on keeping me in the dark. I can't accept that.' Draco looked up at Harry, whose eyes had grown slightly softer. 'I now know it has something to do with whatever that is,' he motioned behind himself, to the object on the floor, 'and you know I'm terrible at Muggle stuff and I know you're terrible at communicating effectively,' Harry made a strangled sound of indignation, but Draco was happy to see the ghost of a smile on his face, 'but I need to know. I need to understand. What is going on?'

Harry looked at him silently for a while, smiling softly.

'You know I love you very much, right?'

Draco huffed.

'Don't go changing the subject, Potter.'

Harry averted his gaze and squirmed in his seat.

'Fine. Fine.' He tucked his legs under himself and took a deep breath. 'The scales are a thing that tells you how much you weigh... You stand on it and it shows you a number, which is your weight...'

'But these aren't pounds,' Draco interrupted.

'... in kilograms. It's a different system. The metric system?' Draco stared at him blankly. 'Never mind. Anyway, it shows you your weight. Muggle healers use it, for example... to see if your height and your weight are... well, if you're healthy, if everything is alright with your body and...'

'Are you ill?' Draco interjected.

'No. No, I'm not ill... I'm fine. It's just that...' Harry faltered, then started speaking fast. 'You must have noticed, Draco, you do have eyes. I mean, I know you haven't said anything, but I'm sure you've noticed. It's not something that just goes unnoticed like that and...'

Draco growled.

'Potter, stop rambling,' he spat. 'What the fuck is it that I should have noticed, but quite obviously didn't?'

Harry looked at him helplessly.

'That I'm... fat...?'

Draco stared. What?

'What?'

'Oh, please. Don't mollycoddle me. I've been gaining weight for months now, what with all these meals we have together... The breakfasts, the fancy restaurants you take me to... I love this, I would never give this up, please don't get me wrong... But I've never... I've never really had that much rest and that much good food... I was... When I was small, I was kind of used to not eating for days... and then, constantly running around, saving my fucking life or somebody else's... Well, you know, I don't have to tell you that... anyway...' 

Draco was doing his very best to remain silent and follow the stream of consciousness. There was still a slight chance Potter would finally get to the fucking point.

'... and then, after the war, I wasn't exactly... I didn't really look after myself so I mainly lived off what Molly forced into my hands after dinner every Saturday... I would go all week on just that and I didn't really care... But now... I'm rested, I eat well, and I feel peaceful, and it's great, and I'm grateful for it, I really am, but... it seems my body just isn't used to that... I don't know how you do it, you're so beautiful, always... and me... and I've been trying to do something about it, and I've been watching my diet more and running, and checking my weight regularly, every week, but it just isn't working... I dunno, maybe I'm not disciplined enough, maybe I'm doing something wrong, I don't really know about this stuff, but I just...'

'Alright, enough!' Draco roared.

Harry looked at him, eyes frightened.

Draco breathed deep and tried to collect himself.

'So,' he said slowly, looking directly into Harry's eyes, 'you think you're ugly?'

Harry squirmed and shut his eyes tightly.

Draco stared at him, his mind racing. This was wrong. This was all wrong. Who the fuck used a sorry Muggle excuse for healing equipment instead of a proper diagnostic spell to judge whether everything was alright with their body? And what did _this_ have to do with being ugly? What the fuck?

Draco stood up. Potter wanted no mollycoddling? Alright, no mollycoddling it was, then.

'Take off your clothes, Potter.'

Harry's head snapped up and his eyes went wide.

'What?'

'You heard me. Take - off - your - clothes.'

Harry didn't move, just stared.

'Oh, come on, Potter. I see you naked every day. And, excuse me, have you actually _met_ me? If I don't like something about you, do I usually keep it to myself?'

At this, Harry smiled faintly and Draco knew he had won this round. Indeed, after a moment, Harry stood up and slowly removed his clothing, piece after piece, followed by his glasses. Draco tried not to stare, but he stole a few sneaking glances in the growing darkness, looking for that something that Harry believed he'd missed. There was nothing. His body was proportioned, his legs seemed somehow even firmer than before, now that Draco looked, his arse was its usual enticing self... focus, Draco, focus.

He cleared his throat and moved to stand opposite Harry with the scales between them. 

Harry straightened out, apparently trying to hold in his stomach, arms along his sides, fingers clenching and twitching nervously. He was biting his lip.

Draco held out his hands towards him.

'Come here,' he said softly.

Harry moved forward and placed his hands in Draco's palms. 

'Breathe.'

Harry inhaled and exhaled slowly and his body seemed to relax a bit, his stomach regaining its healthy shape.

'Close your eyes.'

Harry looked at him for a moment, then sighed and closed his eyes.

'Step on this sorry Muggle device.'

Harry snorted. Then his grasp on Draco's hands tightened and he moved forward, stepping on the scales with both feet.

Draco looked down. The window displayed the number 76.2. Draco had no idea what that meant.

He let go of Harry's hands.

'But I've just eaten and yesterday wasn't a running day...' Harry started, opening his eyes.

'Shut up,' Draco cut him off. 'And close your eyes.'

Harry huffed but did as he was told.

Draco started circling him, eyeing him. He had a strong urge to slide his fingers along the curve of Harry's back, but resisted. 

'I am going to ask you some questions,' he said quietly. 'I would like short, to-the-point answers, please. No rambling.' He was back in front of Harry and saw him half-smile and nod. He started circling him again. 'Are you healthy?'

Harry was silent for a moment, then he drew in a breath and said, 'Yes.'

'Do you feel healthy?'

There was a moment of hesitation. 'Yes.'

Draco kept circling, silent for a while. He could see Harry's head turning slightly towards the soft sound of his footsteps.

'Does your body get you through the day, safe and sound?'

'Yes.'

'Does it do its job of protecting the parts of you most vital to your continued existence?'

'Yes.'

Draco pondered for a moment.

'Does it do its job of keeping your insides where they belong properly?'

Harry chuckled. 'Yes.'

Draco let the silence stretch until Harry's smile had disappeared, then leaned in and whispered, 'Does it do its job of providing you with pleasure properly?' He brushed the tips of his fingers down Harry's side.

There was a gasp and then a strangled, 'Yes.'

'Do you think, for this, your body deserves appreciation?'

'Yes.'

'From you?'

'Yes.'

Draco stood right in front of Harry's face. 

'Is it getting it?'

Harry scowled and dropped his head. 

'Alright, I understand...' he said, then raised his head and looked straight at Draco. 'But it's not that simple.'

'I know, master of the cliché,' Draco muttered, taking hold of Harry's hands again. 'And I would like to see you happy about yourself. So, if you want to eat tomato on toast for breakfast, I'll eat it with you... Hell, I'll eat tomato without toast with you if you wish...'

'Oh, no, but you might disappear...' Harry jutted in, smiling cheekily.

Draco smiled.

'10 points to Gryffindor for the sassy retort, Potter. I'm glad your mood's improved.'

Harry squeezed Draco's hands.

'And I will cheer you on when you go running and give you massages when you come back, if you wish. And while we're on the subject of physical exercise, I could consent to even more sex, Merlin help us,' Draco raised an eyebrow and smirked mischievously. 

Harry laughed and held up Draco's hands, kissing one and the other palm in turn.

'But I would like to ask you to consider doing two things for me.'

Harry looked at him seriously and nodded.

'One, I would like you to consider us attending to each other in bed in equal measure.'

Harry seemed to understand what Draco meant and nodded.

'I don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with, and I don't need you to agree with me, as I know I'm right anyway.' Harry nodded at him indulgently. 'So just try to keep in mind that I think you are incredibly fucking hot.'

Harry squeezed his eyes shut but nodded again, smiling.

'And the other thing?' he asked faintly.

'Let's get rid of this horrible Muggle object and find a more appropriate place to store your fucking Cloak...?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parts of this chapter were written under the influence of [this beautiful song by Tim Minchin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=exwn6fuF9y0).


	4. A day to remember

If someone had told him years ago that he would be lying on the grass - alright, not the grass per se, that was just too wrong to even contemplate - staring at a bunch of Gryffindors and a very Hufflepuffy Ravenclaw frolicking about in the afternoon sunshine, he would have hexed them six ways from Sunday. And if they'd told him he would be enjoying it, he would have personally taken them on a Side-Along to St Mungo's, having previously Stupefied them as a safety precaution. 

Wonders never cease.

He turned to his side, propping himself up on an elbow and looked around for something to nibble on. The centre of the big blanket was strewn with leftover food and drinks. He glanced at the half-empty fruit bowl.

'Seriously, who does one have to fuck to get a Granny Smith around here?' he grumbled, reaching for a shiny red apple.

Granger chuckled.

'Well, it's established, then. Next time we go on a picnic, you and Harry are responsible for bringing the refreshments,' she said.

He rolled his eyes but gave her a lazy smile. 

He bit into the apple and looked back towards the sounds of laughter coming from down the hill. Ginevra and Lovegood were in the process of throwing swarms of something very purple and squirmy over Longbottom's head. He seemed to be trying to protect his hair, but it appeared to be more of a show than an honest attempt and he was giggling along with them. 

Draco scoffed and looked up at the sky. It was empty but for a few single fluffy clouds.

Granger followed his gaze.

'Yes, we seem to have lost our boyfriends,' she said thoughtfully.

'Worse, I seem to have lost my broom,' he murmured. 

He had insisted on brining both his and Harry's brooms with the intention of separating from the jolly crowd from time to time together, but once Weasley had laid his eyes on Draco's new Firebolt, there'd been no prying it away from his hands. It had been on his lap while they'd eaten, by his side while they'd rested and now between his legs while Harry and he were flying.

Draco shuddered.

Suddenly there was a sharp, swishing sound from behind them and Draco felt the air tousle his hair as Harry and Weasley swept close above them. Granger laughed and pulled a few curly strands from her mouth.

'Ginny! Luna! Release the Mini Pixies right now!' Weasley shouted mock-threateningly as he and Harry approached them. 'This is animal cruelty! What will my girlfriend say!?'

'Your girlfriend is perfectly capable of speaking for herself, thank you very much!' Hermione called.

'D'you need some help, Neville?' Harry shouted, laughing.

'No,' Neville yelled back, shaking a few Mini Pixies from the sleeve of his shirt, 'I'm fine! I'll be fine!'

Ginevra promptly collected the tiny creatures from the air, closing them gently between the palms of her hands and jumped up, releasing them. The Pixies flew straight up and Draco thought he could hear their high-pitched screeches of delight.

Harry and Weasley were still hovering close by and with the corner of his eye, Draco saw them bring their heads together to whisper. A moment later they were charging straight at the Pixie-playing trio, gaining speed fast.

Granger jumped and felt around her, grabbing her small bag.

'Oh, I don't know what's going to happen, but I bet it's going to be good,' he squeaked, pulling out a rounded silver box-like object from her purse. 

Draco briefly wondered what else she had there. If he and Harry were supposed to bring the food next time, he would have to finally pluck up the courage to ask her about the spellwork on the purse. Somehow, this seemed much more daunting than apologising for years of harassment had. But needs must. Potter would be no help in this department. He must have been aware that Granger could do this for years, and still every time they went away for the weekend, he seemed surprised by the Shrinking Spell Draco cast on their luggage.

Draco took another bite of the apple and looked back towards the now growing noise. Harry and Weasley were flying around the place where Ginevra, Lovegood and Longbottom stood, rising in circles and swishing back down only to start rising again. The air moved with them in a spiral, the current catching the Pixies, which were now producing a continuous joyful screech. Everyone on the ground was shrieking, including Neville, which was slightly disturbing, and Harry and Weasley were roaring with laughter as they soared up and down. The air around them looked like a small purple tornado.

It was an intoxicatingly beautiful sight.

Draco thought this would be a good time to puke.

No sense wasting an apple, though. Even if it was a red one.

His attention was suddenly back to Granger, who seemed to have somehow expanded - how consistent - the silver object in her hands. It was as if she had separated one side of it and was now holding the thing in her right hand while supporting the protruding left side with their fingertips. She was pointing it at the group and the flat inside surface of the protruding part seemed to be showing exactly the same scene as the one taking place in front of their eyes right this very moment.

Hmm, a screen...?

Granger's head snapped and she looked straight at him, surprised.

Draco winced. Damn it.

'Did I say that out loud...?'

'Why, yes. Yes, you did, Draco. And very well done. Indeed, it is a screen. 10 points to Slytherin, in Muggle Studies, no less,' she nodded.

Draco scowled but his eyes went back to the screen of their own accord. The tiny people-shapes moved around on it. Draco thought they were mirroring what was taking place down the hill, but he couldn't see properly, being that far away from the small screen.

'Come on, have a look,' Granger said suddenly, smiling at him.

He begged for his dread not to show. How far did her talents go exactly? Was she a fucking Legilimens, too!?

He dropped the apple on the grass and moved to a sitting position, then scooted over, sitting behind her left shoulder. 

He looked at the screen, where he could see the purple tornado disperse as Harry and Weasley got off their brooms, exhausted, bending over, panting and laughing. There was a lot of jumping, hugging, hand-holding and shoulder-slapping.

The colours on the screen seemed almost as vivid as the ones around them. Everything on the screen seemed very, very real, and there were only two things which disturbed Draco. Well, three, really. 

One, that the scene the screen displayed was completely flat. There was no depth to it whatsoever. 

Two, that there was an annoying red dot blinking in the top left corner of the screen for no reason. He was quite sure there were no blinking red spots in the sky.

And three, that he had no idea what the fucking point of the object was. 

Again.

Granger looked over her shoulder at him and then back at the object.

'This is called a video camera,' she said instructively. 'It lets you keep scenes that really happen, much like a magical camera, but it can capture much longer scenes. The red dot here shows you that the image which you can see on the screen is going to be kept in its memory. It's called recording. To start or stop the process, you press this button here.' She pressed the top-most of the three buttons located to left of the screen and the red dot disappeared. The screen went to black for a moment and then the landscape in front of them appeared on it again, but the red dot didn't. 'And then, once you have recorded your piece, you can watch it by pressing this button here.' She pressed the button at the bottom and a frozen image of Harry and Weasley speeding towards the Pixies appeared. 'Then you press this triangle here - this is a universal symbol which lets you see recorded things - and voilà.' She pressed the button with the triangle pointing to the right and the screen started showing the tornado-raising scene from the beginning.

Draco watched the 'recording' for a while, then turned his eyes to Granger.

'Wow,' he said slowly. 'Can you teach Potter to explain things like that?'

Granger laughed, throwing her head back.

'I'm afraid the honest answer to this question is no,' she said, smiling at him. 'Here, you try.' 

She pressed something and the screen showed what was in front of them again. She removed the camera from the grasp of her right hand and Draco now noticed that there was a wide strap on that side, apparently designed to make the holding of the object easier. He took the camera from her gingerly and slipped his right hand between the strap and the right side of the object. He raised it and on the screen he saw Harry starting to climb back up the hill, broom in hand.

'I'll go check if none of the Pixies got a heart attack from all the excitement.' Granger put her hand on his shoulder and used it to push herself up. She smiled at him again and strolled down.

Draco immediately pressed the top button. The red dot appeared and started blinking and he couldn't help the jolt of excitement in his chest.

'Oh, no,' he muttered to himself, 'I'm turning into a Muggle-crazed Pixie...'

On the screen, he could see Harry, cheeks flushed, hair in complete disarray, climbing up with exertion and smiling at Granger, who was walking towards him. They clasped hands for a second when they passed each other, then Harry's eyes turned to Draco and he waved. He was closer now and occupied almost the entire screen. As he approached, Draco moved the camera down, capturing his worn-out trainers, and up along his legs and hips. Draco decided he could really take to his camera thing.

Harry fell on the blanket next to him with a grunt and a thud, broom discarded next to him.

'Broken it yet?' he asked joyfully and stuck out his tongue.

Draco looked at him over his shoulder and huffed.

'I will have you know, Potter' he said haughtily, 'that we have recorded your misdeeds with the video camera.'

'Oh, wow, Malfoy, I'm impressed,' Harry said. 'So many Muggle words used correctly in one sentence...'

'Well, the replacement teacher did a much better job than my regular instructor.'

'Yes, she comes highly recommended.'

Harry reached out and circled his arms around Draco's waist, pulling him down and embracing him. In the process, the part of the camera with the screen shut and fit neatly into the body of the object. Draco turned to his side, laying his head on Harry's extended arm and felt a leg being swung across his hip. He held the camera clasped in his hands between their chests.

'You know, I was thinking...' he started quietly.

'Oh, my,' Harry sighed. 'Whatever will come out of that this time...' He brushed a stray strand of hair from Draco's face, smiling.

'Recording you making a purple tornado out of a bunch of Mini Pixies around your friends is great and all but... there are other types of activities that could be worth recording and watching again...' 

Harry widened his eyes in mock astonishment.

'Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?'

'Yes, I am,' Draco replied in a lewd tone. He looked back at the camera. 'I'm honestly surprised no one has thought of it before.'

Harry laughed so hard he actually choked.


	5. The 5 o'clock shadow

There were three things that made 5 o'clock a good time of the day - the tea (hot, a splash of milk, two sugars), the sandwiches Potter would make since they'd abandoned the scones (watercress with butter, grilled shrimp with lemongrass, salmon with cucumber) and the cuddling sessions that followed the meal. 

Draco had been revolted with himself the first time he'd realized he actually liked cuddling. But there was no point in denying it. The moment Harry set his mug back on the coffee table and reclined on the sofa, stretching and uttering a low grunt, it was as if Draco's body started moving on its own. He would snuggle closer, raising Harry's arm and insinuating his shoulder into the hollow of Harry's armpit and his cheek into the crook of Harry's neck. Then, all he needed to do was to rub his face slightly against Harry's and... ah...

Yes. There was no denying it. He was pathetic. 

_And_ he had a thing for Harry Potter's stubble.

Draco moved his cheek up and down and sighed contentedly.

'Are you doing that thing again?' Harry asked, tone amused.

'What _thing_?' Draco bristled.

'That _thing_ when I have the impression you don't even register my presence, it's only my jaw that is the focus of your attention?'

'Well, your jaw insists on being attached to you, so I don't see how you have anything to worry about.'

'I've been told doing this irritates one's skin. You're sure you want to mar your perfect complexion?' Harry teased.

'Nothing can mar my perfect complexion,' Draco said firmly and rubbed on Harry's jaw some more.

Harry chuckled.

'This borders on a fetish, Draco. I'm not convinced it's entirely healthy.'

'Shut up, Potter. Your jaw and I are having a moment. Don't spoil it for us.'

Mind you, Draco had nothing against a clean-shaven Potter.

'How do I look?' Harry would ask when heading out for another terribly important and utterly boring Ministry function.

'So stately... so pure... positively screaming 'ravish me',' Draco would leer.

Draco also held no objections to Harry with a mountain troll's worth of beard.

Harry would sometimes let it grow out and thread his fingers through it, slightly apprehensively.

'So strong... so primal... positively screaming 'I'm going to ravish you',' Draco would leer.

But there was something about Harry's chin at 5 o'clock on the days when he would make his morning use of the Shaving Spell that overshadowed all the other options in terms of appeal. 

***

It was a rare occurrence that Harry would yield and agree to go to a club. Draco reluctantly acknowledged the thrill whirling in his chest. 

He stood in front of the mirror, turned around and looked at himself over his shoulder.

The leather trousers did wonders for his ass. Not that it was anything but exquisite in and out of itself, but the smooth leather additionally accentuated it in all the right places.

He turned again, facing the mirror and brushed nonexistent lint off his tight black t-shirt. He was ready.

He cast a Tempus. It was nearing ten p.m. Where the hell was Harry? He was taking an un-Potter-likely long time in the bathroom. Did he get stuck there or something?

Draco went down the stairs and stopped on the first floor landing. The door to the bathroom was closed.

An unpleasant feeling of déjà vu set upon him, but then he was distracted by a strange sound coming from the other side of the door. He moved closer, turning his head and listened. It was a continuous buzzing sound, altering in pitch from time to time, as if whatever was making it was moved or changed positions. What the hell was Potter doing in there?

His head snapped up as he remembered a conversation they'd had about Muggle sex toys. He felt a hot shiver creep up his spine. Some of those, Harry'd said, vibrated and _buzzed_.

Draco took a few steps back from the door and tried to decide if he was feeling more insecure or more turned on. The two emotions seemed to be tangled tightly together, however. 

The buzzing stopped and Draco could hear the shuffling of Potter's feet. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Then the buzzing restarted. He nearly jumped.

Oh, that was quite enough! What was Potter thinking?! Getting a sex toy and not sharing it with Draco? Outrageous! Using it right before they were about to go out dancing, which was clearly a socially recognized euphemism for public frotting and groping? Unforgivable!

Draco took two long strides and rapped on the door.

'Potter!' he spat acidly.

The buzzing stopped and there were some more shuffling sounds.

'Erm... just... just a second!' Harry's flustered voice came from behind the door.

Draco took a deep breath and opened the door, pushing it and letting it swing dramatically.

Harry looked up at him, startled.

'Hey! I _said_...'

'A second's passed, Potter,' Draco cut him off.

He swept his gaze up and down Harry. He must have been fast pulling up and zipping up his jeans, Draco had to give him that. He was also shirtless, which did not make the current situation any less tense for Draco.

'Do you even _know_ the meaning of the word _privacy_?!' Harry stomped angrily.

But right at this moment Draco was completely uninterested in a discussion on semantics and terribly curious about the something that Potter was currently trying to hide behind his back and failing miserably.

Draco straightened out, raised his chin and swaggered into the bathroom.

'What is it with you and hiding things in the bathroom, Potter?' he drawled. 'This is a big magical house. Hundreds of places to hide something properly here. It's as if you _want_ to be found out...'

Draco moved to circle Potter, but Harry kept turning to face him, one hand still behind his back.

'Has it ever occurred to you that there are certain things that simply _belong_ in the bathroom?' 

Draco stopped, narrowing his eyes. He moved close to Potter, locking his gaze on him, making their noses almost brush. 

'Yes, of course,' he hissed. 'But then there are also some things that belong in the _bedroom_.'

Harry frowned confusedly and his eyes darted to the side for a second.

'Well... This... This is not one of them...' Harry said looking up, perplexed.

Right then and there, Draco lost any desire to bicker. Being so close to Harry's face he now saw what had escaped him before in his perusal of Potter's nether regions. His hand, apparently gaining a mind of its own, shot up and closed around Harry's jaw. His palm itched in the most pleasant way as it touched the hard stubble.

Harry's face lit up and he brought his hand from behind himself, holding up the object that he was gripping.

Draco looked down at it, his thumb still rubbing Harry's cheek.

The object was dark grey and its width fit perfectly into Harry's palm - it was maybe 8 inches long and one of its ends included a confusing structure of elements which somewhat reminded Draco of combs - one edge was covered with tiny metal teeth. In the middle of the object was a small screen and some buttons. Draco scoffed inwardly. Honestly, what was it with this Muggle love of screens and buttons? Currently, the screen was displaying '0.4mm'.

Draco shook his head in an attempt to clear it. He really didn't have it in himself right now to try and understand what the thing was. He had Potter's delicious stubble under his fingers and if he had this object to thank for it, he would worship it till the end of his days.

'I...' Harry started, but faltered as Draco's hand moved towards his ear, fingertips entwining into the messy strands of hair there. 'I wanted to... to surprise you...'

Draco only smiled and rubbed the palm of his hand more firmly along Harry's jaw line and down his neck.

'But in you went...' Harry continued faintly, his eyes closing. 'Spoiling it... with your... prying and meddling...'

Draco couldn't restrain himself and bent his head to swipe his lips across the short prickly hair. Harry moaned softly. 

'Ugh...' Draco groaned. 'Why did you wait so long to procure this wonderful thing...?' He bit Harry's jaw lightly and swept his tongue up along it to nibble at Harry's earlobe.

'I... ' Harry swayed and took a step back, his hands looking for support behind him. Draco moved swiftly with him, pinning him to the wash basin. The object fell into it with a clatter and Harry's arms instantly found their way up Draco's back and round his neck.

'Yes...?' Draco locked Potter's chin a tight grip and turned his head, giving himself free access to his other cheek and ear.

'I... oh...' Harry's breath was coming in sharp pants and he kept his eyes tightly shut. 'Well, I asked Neville...'

'Neville...?' Draco breathed into the skin underneath his mouth. Harry was now pulling Draco's head into his own neck forcefully, making it difficult for Draco to respond for numerous reasons.

'Yeah... I was thinking maybe... oh... he knew a spell or something... he's always so-aaah... and he showed me this...' 

Draco pulled his mouth off Potter's skin and tried to gather his wits enough to make sense of the panted rambling. He closed Harry's jaw in both his hands and rubbed mercilessly.

'So Neville uses this Muggle thing...?' 

'Yeah... He said... with a spell, it's difficult... to get it to look neat... Not as easy as with the Shaving Spell... when you just have to... imagine bare skin...'

'Neville, eh?' Draco said softly, kneading the stubbly skin. He was looking intently at the blissful look on Harry's face, at the closed eyelids, eyelashes fluttering slightly, at the partly open mouth.

'Yeah... He's... He's always so... well-groomed nowadays... very... attractive... Haven't you noticed...?'

'I have,' Draco replied, smiling. He dropped his hands to Potter's hips and brought his face close to Harry's to whisper. 'Would you like to invite him to go with us tonight?'

Harry's eyes snapped open. He looked at Draco for a moment, apparently looking for signs of teasing on his face. He must have found none - and rightfully so - because finally his face broke out in a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all the reasons why I couldn't help bringing Neville into this stubble fetish, [see here](https://www.google.pl/search?q=matthew+lewis&es_sm=93&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0CAcQ_AUoAWoVChMIoubHhIaDyAIVBgYsCh0DZwDZ&biw=1366&bih=643).


	6. A Saturday apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's hoping you won't hate me for the POV change and the editing trick. I tried to make it work for a computer screen, but if you're reading this on your mobile I probably owe you an apology for the imperfections (and oh, the irony!, considering the theme of the chapter). Anyway, hope this works... fingers crossed.

Harry felt his neck snap painfully and his chin hit the top button of his formal dress robes. 

He snapped his head back up, squinting his eyes and squirming, trying to force some energy back into his body. A few heads turned in his direction from the people in his row of seats, but he managed to avoid any eye contact.

It was the fifth hour of sitting down today, the thirteenth if he added up all the sessions from yesterday and the sixteenth if he took under consideration the evening gala, which he'd spent trying to do a minimum amount of mingling and hand-shaking and a maximum amount of hiding at the most remote tables. His arse was numb and even the Cushioning Charm on the seat wasn't helping the situation. He cursed the sense of obligation that had made him think it was only proper to accept the invitation to the Conference for International Magical Cooperation. He cursed Hermione, who had been instrumental in creating said sense of obligation. 

He had no idea what the current panel was about. It seemed to have been dragging on for hours, which was probably not far away from the truth, anyway. He briefly wondered whether he could get away with another 'trip to the toilet'. It would be the fourth one today. He decided against it. He didn't fancy opening tomorrow's _Prophet_ to find a report on his alleged urinary tract infection.

Suddenly he felt a vibration in his pocket. He fumbled with the fabric of his dress robes and pulled out the phone.  
The person sitting to his right moved in their seat uncomfortably, but he didn't pay them any mind.

Because he had just got _a text_ from Draco.

Wow. Just... Wow.

**Are you there?**

Harry tried to hide the phone in his lap the best he could, using the wide dress robes sleeves  
to form a kind of a tent around it. He changed the setting to silent and texted back.

**Y but cnt talk rn**

**Potter, are you sitting on your phone? Can you  
please start typing with your fingers?**

Harry took a deep, calming breath.

**Yes but I can't talk right now**

**Well, can you WRITE?**

Harry frowned.

**I thouht u wanted nthing to do with txting?**

He kept the phone in his lap, but the response took very long to arrive this time.  
Harry was painfully aware of the fact that he was now drawing both  
curious and scathing looks from the people around him.

**Oh, so, first you give me this blasted thing**  
**'so that you don't have to run around looking for a Floo',**  
**then you barely call me all day because you're 'stuck in sessions',**  
**next you inform me that you won't be coming back home for the**  
**night because 'there aren't nearly enough Portkeys for the hundreds**  
**of people' and 'some of the connections seem to be malfunctioning**  
**and you don't want to end up in fucking Japan' AND**  
**'you've been drinking' and now you're telling me**  
**that I can't even text my boyfriend?'**

Harry wanted to be angry, but he couldn't help being impressed instead. In his mind's eye,  
he could see Draco struggling with the touchscreen keyboard, cursing  
when he would hit the wrong letter and going back to correct it.  
Wow. Just... Wow. What had got into him?

Harry smiled to himself wickedly.

**U miss me hun? :)**

**Oh, please. Don't flatter yourself. I'm just bored.**

**What r u doin?**

**Relaxing on the sofa on a Saturday. Not**  
**participating in a pointless conference. In short,**  
**not being the Saviour of the Wizarding World.**

Harry scoffed. Two people sitting in the row in front of him turned around to glare at him.  
He shot an apologetic look at no one in particular. 

**FU**

**Use your words, Potter.**

**Figure it out**

**Or google it :)**

**You know very well I am not touching the G picture.**

**I kinda thoght youd warm up to th idea of th internet**

**Just as soon as I reconcile myself to the fact that**  
**Muggles leave all their knowledge flying around in space, I will.**

**Not rlly how it works D**

**Oh, for fuck's ske, Potter. This reductive**  
**linguistic form is positively ghastly.**

Harry chuckled.  
Harry chuckled just a little bit too loud, apparently.

'Shush!' came from behind him and he realized he had at least five sets of eyes on him. 

He raised his hand in a gesture of surrender. 

'Sorry! So sorry!' he whispered, turning his head around to meet the nasty looks.  
The eyes turned away from him slowly, but there was some frowning and eye-rolling going  
with that and he thought he heard someone mutter 'damn celebrities' under their breath with a foreign accent. 

He looked back down into his lap. There'd been another message. 

**Sake. I meant to type 'sake'.**

**See u could jst write ffs insted :) Id get it**

**I can't even look at this anymore. Goodbye, Potter.**

**ll call u l8r :D**

**FU**

Harry smiled. 

**Oh? :)**

**Yes, guess what. I've figured it out.**  
**All by myself. So FU and your google.**

Harry clamped his hand over his mouth because it was  
threatening to make more unwelcome sounds of amusement.  
Then came another message. 

**And call me when you can talk.**

**< 3 **

**Oh, ffs, shut up, you sap and go back**  
**to saving international magical cooperation.**

Harry choked back his laughter and pocketed his phone. 

Time seemed to be passing even slower now and in a few minutes Harry found himself  
pulling out his phone to check the time. And glance around for a new message alert.  
But there wasn't one. 

It took him approximately fifteen minutes to text Draco. 

**U there?**

**Y but cant talk rn**

Harry frowned. What the hell. Was this supposed to tease or impress? 

**What r u doin?**

**Txting withh my lefthand..**

**What? Why?**

**Pottr pleasw dont be daft what can a man be**  
**doing ob the sofa on a boering saturday afgernoon**  
**just having texted hus boyfriend that would**  
**keep his primaery hand ocupied**

Harry gasped. 

'Mister Potter,' one of the wizards sitting in front of him turned and glared at him,  
speaking quietly but firmly. 'Some of us are actually here to pay attention as opposed to providing the event  
with a celebrity-ridden attendee list. Would you grant those of us the opportunity of unimpeded participation?' 

Harry gaped for a moment, but then nodded quickly. 

'Of course, of course...sorry...' he whispered.  
_It's just that my boyfriend has just informed me that he's wanking off on our sofa_ , he thought. 

The man in front of him turned back around and Harry looked back at the phone, typing frantically. 

**Really?**

He waited. There was no answer. 

**Draco?**

No answer still. Suddenly Harry had the impression that  
it had got very, very hot in the conference room. 

**Oh come on draco**

**Draco???**

**Ffs**

**You bastard**


	7. Time to set the record straight

The questions was: where had all the fucking quills gone?

Draco rummaged through the piles of papers on top of the bureau, opening and closing drawers, picking up and discarding objects.

Why did these tiny metal loopy things have to be everywhere? What did Potter find so terribly troubling about a simple Sticking Charm? And, honestly - lined paper? Draco picked up a notepad and flipped through it. Just when, after years of the torment of sharing a life with Potter, Draco was finally starting to appreciate certain Muggle ideas, there they went with something like that. How was he supposed to hold any form of respect for someone who couldn't even master the skill of writing in a straight line?

'Ha!' Draco exclaimed as another pile of notepads and parchments revealed a pen. 'You, I know. You'll do.'

Picking up the pen, he was reminded of a certain uncomfortable evening years ago when Potter had come up with an idea for a 'getting-to-know-each-other-properly' activity. He had gradually covered Draco's entire body in writing and with each new addition made him say whether the words were true or not. Draco looked at his right thigh. 'I once climbed a filthy tree with the sole intention of looking good when insulting Potter' had been written there. 

Draco shuddered and gathered himself. That had been the night he had learnt the ink from Muggle pens was surprisingly difficult to scrub off. 

He sat down at the bureau, moving the piles of paper aside, took a piece of parchment and held up the pen.

It was a dreadful thing. Painfully pink, made of plastic - Draco recognised the material, though he still wasn't sure what plastic was exactly - with 'Steamy Spot' written in black on the clip. Ah, Harry must have picked it up the time he and Neville had gone to this Muggle sauna place. The outing had been a right disaster. They'd both returned soon, grumbling about 'irresponsible twats' and pledging to finally learn to cast wandless protection spells. Thanks to the thwarting of their plans, however, the night had ended in Neville staying over and some breathtaking scenes taking place right in front of Draco's roaming eyes. He smirked, twirling the pen in his fingers. He supposed he had something to be grateful for to the Steamy Spot...

He refocussed his eyes on the pen and pressed the top with his thumb, just like he had seen Harry do multiple times.

His thumb met with resistance and the pressure didn't result in anything happening. 

Draco hummed. He held the pen horizontally and looked at the other end. He knew there was supposed to be a writing tip then, retractable by pressing the top. Why wasn't it working? He looked into the hole and inside the pen, squinting his eyes. He could just make out the writing tip, it was right there, the bastard! Why wouldn't it come out?

'Stupid fucking thing... ' Draco muttered, looking the pen over from various angles. 'Stupid Muggles... Why can't they ever come up with anything straightforward?'

He tried pressing the top again, but it was no use. He dropped the pen on the top of the bureau angrily. Maybe he would just Apparate to Diagon Alley and get some new quills, it would certainly be quicker. That reminded him - where had all the fucking quills gone?

The pink pen rolled across the top of the bureau, bounced off a pile of books and papers, rocking happily and came to a halt, stopped by its clip, looking carefree and distinctly self-satisfied.

Draco scoffed.

'You think you've won, don't you? Well, I won't have that.'

He grabbed the pen and shook it, then pressed the top a few more times violently.

'You think you're clever?' he hissed, standing up and starting to pace. 'Drop the attitude. I'm going to work you right open.' He pointed a finger at the pen in stern warning. 'Just you wait and see...'

'Draco...?' Harry's hesitant voice reached him from the entrance to the room.

Draco jumped and swirled towards the door, trying to hide the pen behind himself but managing to drop it instead. The pink menace rolled across the floor towards Harry. Draco froze.

Harry looked at the pen, then his wide eyes landed on Draco again.

'My love,' Harry started tentatively, 'have you been telling off the pen...?'

Draco bristled.

'Of course not!'

Harry raised his eyebrows and looked at Draco expectantly.

Draco scoffed.

'Well, it wouldn't cooperate!' he waved his hand angrily.

Harry stared at him for a moment, then smiled and gave him a small nod. He walked into the room, bending to pick up the pen and approached Draco. He extended his pen-bearing hand and slowly pressed on the clip, still looking at Draco, who was now staring at the pen, transfixed. There was a click and the writing tip extended, retracted a bit, but stayed visible.

Draco raised his eyes to Harry, scowling. He snatched the pen.

'Tell me, Potter,' he spat. 'Where have all our quills gone?' 

Harry looked slightly surprised, but Draco didn't miss the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

'Remember that time you said there are certain things that _belong in the bedroom_?' Harry looked at Draco, apparently waiting for confirmation. Draco tilted his head in confusion - what the fuck did that have to do with anything? - but nodded slowly. 

Harry grinned, looking just as self-satisfied as the pen had.

'The quills are in the bottom drawer of the nightstand.'


	8. A sweltering afternoon

The unquestionable benefit to living in an invisible house was that it came with an invisible garden. Especially on sweltering afternoons when clothes were the last thing on Draco's mind.

He stood on the porch leading to the back garden and looked up at the clear sky, squinting his eyes. He felt the warmth of the sunrays caress his bare skin and stretched out leisurely. Yes, basking in the sun it was.

He looked around and his eyes landed on the two folded beach chairs propped up against the wall. They had been an indispensable component of this last summer's warm afternoons ever since Harry had brought them back in June. They looked feeble, the thin wooden structures framing pieces of ghastly red and white polka dot fabric, but had turned out to be quite sturdy - one being able to support their combined weights and a fair bit of clumsy squirming. Not the most comfortable arrangement in the world, mind you, but better than rolling in the dried-up grass like two dogs in heat. 

Draco took one of the chairs and brought it towards the centre of the lawn. He took a speculative look at the dreadful thing - he was never exactly sure where to hold and where to pull to make the chair unfold. Setting up beach chairs was one of Harry's household chores. As were many others related to the Muggle phenomena that their house now store a lot too many of. Apart from the toaster. Draco was quite sure he was better with the toaster than Potter.

A close investigation of the chair led Draco to conclude there was no way he had enough hands to unfold it in any way even remotely dignified. He sighed and grabbed the frame on its longer side, setting the opposite one lightly against the ground and pulled the two wooden bars apart. Ah, now he could see which way things went. He moved along the length of the chair, bending and reaching out to fit the swivelling vertical pole into the lowest of the three indentations. He was slightly proud of himself for knowing this would set the chair in the most horizontal position possible. He grabbed the chair, holding in crucial spots to keep everything in place, lifted it, set it back on the ground the right way around and took a step back to admire his work. 

'Ha,' Draco said to himself. Not that terrible at Muggle stuff anymore.

He looked around. He had a strange feeling as if... as if there was something missing. Was he forgetting something? He gave the chair a once-over. Everything looked all right... He shrugged and flung himself into the chair. 

He shifted, getting comfortable, feeling the taut fabric against his back and buttocks. He stretched his legs all the way down to his toes and closed his eyes, exhaling deeply, content. 

The air was still and dry and blissful silence encompassed him, all the sounds from beyond the fence blocked off by the charm on the house and garden. The warmth of the sun made him tingle pleasantly all over and he could feel his skin absorbing it, getting hotter and hotter.

His eyes snapped open. Oh, fuck! The sun protection charm! 

He sat up, running his hands down his chest and stomach frantically, feeling the warmth of the skin there under his fingertips. In his mind's eye, he could already see himself - a hideous pink flush on his skin, glaring red splotches on his thighs, skin peeling off on his shoulders... 

He yelped and looked around for his wand. 

Fuck! He had left it inside!

He jumped out of the chair and ran. 

As soon as he felt the cool of the house, he stopped and tried to calm his breathing. He knew he was safe now, but he could still feel the warmth crawling on his skin. He went for the closest tall mirror and nearly plastered himself to it, touching and stretching the skin on his arms and shoulders to inspect it properly. He could swear it was a little flushed already. And he couldn't have been out in the sun for more than a few minutes total! 

And he had forgotten his wand! He moved away from the mirror and scoffed. What the fuck was wrong with him? Forgetting his wand?! Merlin... This Muggle fucking lifestyle was like a disease, spreading slowly, creeping up on you and then catching you off guard when you least expected it.

And of course, it was all Potter's fault. All throughout the summer, he got Draco accustomed to a treatment with this white Muggle cream, which he would spread across virtually all parts of Draco's body, massaging it in thoroughly, slowly...

Draco mentally shook himself. Enough of this reliance on Muggle bullshit! He grabbed his wand off the table and stood in the French window leading to the garden. It was time for a show of strength. He wanted an afternoon in the sun and, by Salazar, he would get it. He would magic the shit out of this sunny fucking afternoon.

He cast a series of sun protection charms on himself and strode back into the garden. He stood over the beach chair. He could blast it away into oblivion and use a levitation charm instead, but keeping it up constantly was bound to take away from the blissfulness of the rest. Moreover, there was the slight chance that he would go thumping to the ground if he were to doze off. He gave a resigned sigh and lay back on the chair, resting his wand on the ground beside him. 

He closed his eyes and tried to focus on regaining some peace of mind. It was a very strange feeling, but yet again, he had the impression that something was missing... He flung his arm down, feeling for his wand and relaxed when his fingers hit it. He had his wand, everything was all right. Everything was going to be ok. He wasn't 'missing' anything. Everything was fine. He was lying in the sun, undisturbed by human presence, resting... He wasn't missing anything. 

The warmth of the sun was spreading across his body and this time Draco welcomed the heat. His skin was tingling with it, making him feel heavy and his throat dry...

Ah, that was it! That was what was missing! Harry would always make him a jug-full of iced tea - mint with lemon, honey-sweetened rhubarb, strawberry and basil... Draco hummed. He could already feel his taste buds buzz with excitement over the next surprisingly delicious flavour combo and his throat utter a sigh of relief as the cold liquid went down and sent the chill spreading all over his body. Now, surely, he would be able to operate the Iced Tea Maker all by himself... The brochure with the instructions had to still be tucked away somewhere... didn't it?

Oh, no. He open his eyes. No, no, no, no. There he was again! Slipping into the treacherous void of Muggle in-conveniences. Snarling, he grabbed his wand.

'Accio glass!' he yelled.

There was a whoosh, a smash of glass breaking and then silence.

Draco grumbled and focussed more intently.

'Accio glass,' he said clearly, stretching out his hand.

There was another whoosh and a moment later he was holding a glass in his hand. 

He nodded to himself, looking at the glass. Now, what would be the simplest way to go about this?

'Aguamenti,' he said, letting the tip of his wand inside the glass.

The stream of water filled the glass. 

'Accio tea bag.'

A few seconds passed and a packet-full of tea hit his head, bounced off and landed on the ground, the paper lid half-open and tea bags spilling out. 

Draco cursed and reached down, making sure to grab one that wasn't touching the ground. He dipped it into the water and cast a strong warming charm.

The water bubbled and sizzled and the glass started burning his hand. He hissed and set it on the ground quickly, then cast a healing charm on his palm.

He let the tea brew for a while, then pulled out the tea bag, pointing his wand at it.

'Evanesco.' 

The tea bag disappeared with a pop. 

He directed his wand at the glass, cast a series of cooling charms and picked it up.

Now, it wasn't flavoured, but he would survive that. Some ice would be nice, though. 

He looked at his wand, pondering on the spell sequence required to make ice cubes. He sighed.

'Oh, fuck it,' he muttered. 'Accio ice cubes.'

He thought he could hear a rattling from the kitchen, but nothing happened. 

'Accio ice cubes,' he repeated firmly.

There was more violent rattling, but still no ice cubes.

'Oh, never mind,' he said, discarding his wand and taking a large gulp of the tea. 

It was strong and bitter and it made his face scrunch up in disgust. But it was cold. And that was the point, after all. He felt the chill penetrate his insides and he sighed, putting the glass aside and laying back.

After a while the stillness of the air made the heat of the sun almost unbearable and Draco could feel sweat gathering at the top of this forehead. He shifted in the chair. This didn't usually happen. Usually, he was able to enjoy the warmth of the sun. He still couldn't quite shake off the feeling that something was missing... He cast another cooling charm and took a sip of the tea, wrinkling his nose and thinking that maybe he could just sprinkle the cold liquid on himself, as it most definitely wasn't performing as a delicious beach-chair-side drink. 

Draco set the glass down, looking at the liquid. Huh. That was it. That was the last missing piece of the puzzle. He looked around. The air was too still... On days like these, Harry would bring out the outdoor misting fan he bought along with the chairs. Ah, the lovely breeze it created, the almost imperceptible water droplets coming in swirls, the cool air stroking his skin... 

... could all be accomplished with a few simple spells, for sure. Draco shook his head. He would have to sit Potter down for a serious talk about this Muggle propaganda the insufferable prat seemed to have infiltrated his mind with over the years. 

He held up his wand and cast a weak Atmospheric Charm around himself. A small cloud appeared above his head a few metres above the ground and started releasing small droplets of water. One of them landed straight onto Draco's groin, making him hiss and squirm as the cold water splattered on his heated skin. 

'Ventus,' he said quickly.

A strong gust of wind rushed out from his wand in a spiral and caught on the glass laying on the ground, sending it flying, tea spilling in all directions. The wind was unpleasantly wet with the drizzle from the cloud, creating more of a rainy blizzard than the mist Draco had in mind.

He sprang out of the chair. 

'Fuck!' he cursed and kicked the wooden frame. He swayed and hissed at the pain in his toes.

Right then, from inside the house he heard the bang of the front door closing and footsteps drawing near. 

'Potter!' Draco bellowed.

A human shape appeared in the dark depths behind the French window, and Draco squinted his eyes, used to the brightness of the day outside.

Harry stepped out onto the porch, his eyes taking in Draco, the upturned chair, the cloud, the glass lying in the grass a few metres away, then roaming up and down Draco again.

'Hi?' Harry said inquisitively.

'Where the fuck have you been?' Draco snarled.

'I...' Harry stammered, 'I told you... when... when I was leaving... I was out... helping Hermione shop for...'

'I know that!' Draco interjected. 'What the fuck took so long!?'

Harry stared at him for a long moment, eyebrows raised.

'The... curtains?' he said finally and Draco couldn't be sure, but he thought the bastard was smirking.

Draco growled and grabbed the chair, setting it back into place. He vanished the cloud, the tea bags and then the glass.

'Whatever. I don't care,' he said angrily and lay back down, making the wood squeak as he adjusted with more force than was necessary. He determinedly did not let go of his wand, pressing it against his hip as he rested his arm alongside his body. It was all Potter's fault, as always. The uncomfortable chair, Draco's skin sunburnt, the pain in his toes, the broken glass, the disgusting tea spilled all over the place, the rain...

For a moment, there was only silence.

'Mhm...' Harry finally said from behind him. 'Just... give me a moment. I'll be right back.'

Draco scoffed. Really, whatever. 

He heard the shuffling of Potter's retreating steps and settled deeper into the chair. The lazy warmth of the sun calmed him down a bit and he stretched, inhaling deeply. His body felt drained and tired. Yes, what was supposed to be a relaxing afternoon turned into a battle for just a little peace and comfort. His eyelids felt heavy and he closed his eyes. And it was all Potter's fault... as always... All Potter's...

When he woke up, it was to the rattle of glass somewhere to his right. The first thing he felt, however, was the lovely cool breeze caressing his skin in light bursts of air. 

'So,' Harry said from beside him, 'I vanished the broken glass from the corridor and closed the freezer door. The ice cubes drawer was half-open. Care to tell me what happened?'

Draco opened his eyes.

To the right of his chair there was now a small round wooden table. On it was a plastic bottle in a hideous shade of yellow with 'SPF 50' written on it in big white letters. Next to it was a tray with two tall glasses equipped with straws and a large jug filled with light brown liquid, ice cubes and some mashed red fruit with tiny black seeds. Big green leaves were floating towards the top.

Harry was sitting on the other chair on the opposite side of the small table, facing Draco. He picked up the jug and started filling the glasses with the iced tea. The ice cubes rattled against the sides in a much too familiar and comforting sound. 

Draco moved his hand and opened his palm, letting his wand slip out and fall to the ground. He raised his head, giving a resigned sigh and looked up at Potter.

Harry was smiling at him softly.

Suddenly, Draco realised he didn't feel like something was missing anymore.


	9. A quiet evening in

The evening was quiet. The fire crackled pleasantly. The curtain moved, letting in fresh early-winter air.

Harry flopped onto the sofa on the opposite end to Draco, toed off his shoes and curled his legs under himself.

Draco raised his head from the heavy tome propped up on his lap. 

'What are you doing?' Draco asked warily, eyeing the thin rectangular object in Harry's hands.

'Reading,' answered Harry, gaze firmly fixed on the object.

Draco scoffed.

'Well, that's new,' he murmured.

Harry didn't acknowledge the comment. He seemed fully focussed on the object in his hands, staring at its flat surface. Not paying any attention to Draco whatsoever. 

Draco scoffed again.

'Well, you're quite obviously not. What is this thing?'

Harry gave a shallow sigh.

'It's an early Christmas present from Hermione.'

'Ah, another pointless Muggle invention to be added to the collection, then?'

'Yeah, it's called a Kindle,' Harry said tiredly, finally raising his head. 'Look, I'm trying to read. Would you mind...?' He made a vague gesture with his hand and stared back down.

Draco huffed and rearranged himself on the sofa. He stared at Harry, frowning slightly. Harry was holding the object in one hand and, every now and then, tapping the flat front with the tip of his index finger. 

'Reading,' Draco muttered under his breath. 'Right, reading...'

Harry didn't even raise an eyebrow.

'All right, what are you reading, then?'

'The Malison of the Mackled Malaclaw.'

'Well that's not even a good lie,' Draco replied impatiently. 'It's right over there,' he motioned in the direction of the bookshelf, 'with a dozen other books I've given you and you haven't once picked up.'

Harry raised his head to look at Draco.

'They all fit in here. Hell, I suspect you could fit the entire Hogwarts library in here.'

Draco scowled.

'That's just hilarious. How would that even be possible?'

Harry smirked.

'Erm... I dunno... Magic?'

'Ha, ha,' Draco deadpanned. 'In a Muggle... Kin-something. Of course. Anyway, there is not even a shrinking spell which would...' Draco started, then registered Harry grinning unashamedly.

Draco shut 'The History of Potion Making, Tome LVIII' with a loud thud.

'Show.'

'Bugger off.'

'Potter, I'm warning you...'

'Oh, we're playing _this_ game now, are we?'

Draco pursed his lips and looked away theatrically.

Harry smiled and extended his Kin-something-bearing hand towards Draco.

'Oh, fine, fine. Just... don't break it.'

'When have I ever...' Draco started indignantly, but thought better of it. 'I won't.'

He accepted the object and turned it around in his hands carefully. 

'Well, it has writing on it, alright...' he said, mostly to himself. 'But it's terribly inefficient. It's barely three paragraphs...'

Harry was regarding Draco with a warmly amused expression.

'Do you need a separate one like this for each page of the text or something...? Hardly what I would call...'

'Tap it on the right.'

Draco frowned. He held the object in one hand and tapped the black frame experimentally.

Harry chuckled.

'No, the screen. Tap the screen.'

'Oh, this is a screen? But it doesn't light up...'

'No, it's not supposed to. It's a... a different kind. So your eyes don't get tired.'

Draco tapped and the text changed smoothly.

'Oh...' Draco said and tapped again with more confidence.

Harry raised a little on his knees and peered over the top edge. He reached out and tapped some more on the screen. Pictures started appearing and disappearing.

'And... here you can choose what you'd like to read.'

Draco stared at the screen for a long while.

'All of these are in here...?' he asked faintly.

'Yup,' Harry rolled back to his end of the sofa.

Draco tapped around the screen some more.

'Could you... could you seriously fit an entire library in here?' he finally asked.

'Yeah, I s'ppose so. It's pretty capacious in and out of itself, and also I wasn't really joking about the magic. Hermione taught me the Transferring Spell and she said she'd also managed to equip it with an adapted Extension Charm.'

Draco looked up at Harry, eyes wide. 

'I could have all the one hundred and eleven tomes of 'The History of Potion Making' in one place...?'

'You could,' Harry started thoughtfully, then stretched leisurely and added, 'if you were to admit that it's a brilliant Muggle invention and asked me nicely to lend it to you from time to time.'

Draco raised his chin and narrowed his eyes. He caressed the cover of 'The History of Potion Making, Tome LVIII' with the palm of his hand.

'I'm not quite certain I'm ready to give up the soothing sound of page-turning, the distinctive smell of age-old parchment, infused with history and magic...'

'Ah, yes, the greasy fingerprints, the paper cuts...' Harry nodded solemnly.

Draco sighed inwardly. The tome did suddenly feel surprisingly heavy on his lap, in comparison to the thin flat object he was now holding in only one hand. And it was true that only while reading the first chapter of tome LVIII he had to consult tomes XXVIII and XLVI again to check certain references - which was terribly inconvenient.

Draco took in a deep breath and spoke with as much dignity as he could muster.

'Harry, would you please lend me your...'

'...Kindle...'

'... your Kindle from time to time and show me how to put my books into it?'

Harry raised an eyebrow.

Draco rolled his eyes.

'It is a brilliant Muggle invention,' he said with as little feeling as possible.

Harry smiled broadly.

'Why, darling, of course I'll lend it to you. And I might even ask Hermione if we can do something about the sound and the musty smell.'


	10. A winter night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, we have arrived at our destination. Here goes the last chapter! 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who followed this story and for all the words of encouragement - this being my first multi-chapter thing, it meant the world to me! I hope you enjoy this last episode - I tried to provide some closure, and also, this chapter is the one that gave the entire fic its rating at the very start, so, ready or not, here comes smut.
> 
> I'll be eternally grateful for your thoughts on this chapter and the whole fic now that it's finished. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Harry kicked the door closed behind them and they stumbled into the narrow corridor. 

'Careful,' Harry said, completely unnecessarily, in Draco's opinion.

Draco held on to Harry with one arm wrapped tightly around the man's back and balanced himself against the wall with the other. His leg felt completely fine, but the healers at St. Mungo's said 'no strain', and so here he was - being practically carried home as if he had been through a fight with a deadly Hippogriff and not a minor Quidditch-related accident.

There was a clatter and a bang and a curse and suddenly Draco could feel Harry's back slipping from his embrace. He tried to grasp Harry's coat, but a second later Potter was lying sprawled on the floor. Draco leaned heavier against the wall, keeping his left leg hovering and tilted his head, looking down at his husband expectantly.

'Damned troll leg,' Harry muttered.

'And here I was thinking _I_ was the one with hindered control over my limbs,' Draco said lightly. 'Missing St Mungo's already, love?'

'Sod off,' Harry mumbled, standing up and setting the umbrella stand back into place. 'I'm getting rid of this first thing tomorrow morning.'

'I can't believe this,' Draco sighed. 'I feel like we've had this conversation a hundred times...'

'Prob'ly 'cause we have...' Harry rolled his eyes, swinging Draco's arm around his own shoulders and pulling him close by the waist.

'I will not allow it, Potter,' Draco said sharply. 'It is a priceless...'

'Black family heirloom,' Harry chimed in tiredly as Draco finished. 'Yes, I am aware.' He pulled Draco's weight against himself and guided Draco towards the stairs slowly. 'And I think you got my name wrong. _Again._ '

***

Draco thought perhaps now that he was home, he was actually going to enjoy the process of recuperation. He sank deeper into the pillows. Now, if only it wasn't so fucking cold...

'Potter!' he yelled.

There was no response. 

'Potter!'

Nothing. He huffed and gathered the bed sheets more tightly around himself.

'Potter-Malfoy!'

'What now?!' 

'I'm cold! Why is it so fucking cold in here?'

Harry came into the room and strode towards the bed, carrying an armful of blankets.

'Perhaps you didn't notice,' he barked, 'but I kind of moved out of here and into fucking St Mungo's over the last three days.'

The blankets landed on the bed next to Draco. He instantly grabbed one, unfolded it and pulled it over his legs.

'Why haven't you put the warming charms back in place?'

'I have,' Harry gritted out, unfolding another blanket and throwing it over Draco.

'Well, you've obviously mucked them up, then. Pass me my wand.'

Harry froze and stared.

'Come on, now, it's right there, on the nightstand.' 

'I bloody know where it is!' Harry threw his hands up. 'And I'm quite sure you can reach it yourself!' He turned and stomped angrily out of the room.

'So tetchy...' Draco muttered to himself, scooting over to the side of the bed, holding the blankets in place and grabbing his wand.

He cast a few spells and threw the wand on the bed, sinking back into the comfort of the now significantly warmer sheets. Yes, this was nice. A week of bed rest was something he was not going to mind in the slightest. All he needed to do was placate Potter - and they both knew very well Draco had his ways - and he would be lying in bed binge-watching the original Doctor Who on the laptop for seven days straight, getting massages and drinking hot cinnamon tea. Brilliant.

Now, if only the bathroom wasn't across the hall...

'Potter!'

Silence. Draco grunted.

'Oh, come on! It doesn't work as well with the four syllables!'

'Well, tough shit!' Harry yelled back.

'I need to go to the bathroom, Potter!'

Draco thought he could hear a scoff.

'Or would you rather we got kinky in bed again?' Draco grinned to himself.

Harry walked into the room and towards the bed, huffing, and Draco could see that the features of his face were slightly softer.

'That was more awkward than hot,' Harry muttered, pulling the blankets off Draco and helping him get out of bed, 'and our cleaning spell skills are not up to the task, as far as I recall...? So, thanks, but no, thanks.'

***

The first thing Draco saw as they stumbled into the bathroom was that one, it was much bigger and two, the cupboard had been moved and the same corner was now occupied by a large bath tub, painfully white against the black interior.

'Extension Charm, Muggle tub,' Harry said distractedly. 'Do your thing.'

Draco felt his pyjama bottoms being pulled down unceremoniously and then he was dropped onto the toilet seat.

'Merlin, Potter, your bedside manner has never been _that_ atrocious!' 

Harry moved to the cupboard, opened it and started ransacking the shelves, in search of what, Draco couldn't say. 

He glanced at the tub, feeling bewildered.

'Why is this thing here? It looks ghastly, wrecks the whole colour scheme,' he remarked, then looked at Potter's turned back. 'And what the fuck is wrong with _you_?'

For a moment, the only sounds between the echoing walls were the sounds of Draco pissing and Harry rummaging through the cupboard.

It seemed that it was time for 'the ways', then.

Draco wiped, flushed and pulled up his pyjamas, standing up shakily, holding his left leg up. Harry spun around and was next to him, supporting him in a flash.

Draco swung his arms over Harry's neck and pulled himself flush against his husband, grinning.

'Mister Potter-Malfoy,' he drawled. 'I think you are in need of a little stress relief...'

Harry let out a shaky breath, embracing Draco and resting his head on Draco's shoulder. There was a short pause.

'Mwordywnthee,' he mumbled against Draco's collarbone.

Draco pulled back a little, trying to catch Harry's eyes.

'Bedside manner's deteriorated, but good to hear the level of eloquence hasn't changed...'

Harry chuckled softly.

'What was that, Potter?'

Harry sighed and pulled Draco back close, rubbing his head against Draco's shoulder and neck.

'I'm worried you won't heal properly,' he said quietly. 'I mean... I know we got all the potions and everything... and clear instructions on how to use them... but it was a nasty injury, Draco...' He lifted his eyes. 'Three places...? Your leg was broken in three places... for fuck's sake, what if it doesn't heal?' Harry's voice was louder, sharper now, but still whiney. 'What if I don't notice something is not going right and I don't get you back to St Mungo's in time? I mean...'

'Harry...'

Harry pulled back a little. There was a familiar look of blind determination on his face.

'We should get a healer... yeah, yeah, we should get someone here permanently, for the whole week... or maybe, maybe let's make that two, just to be sure...'

'Harry...'

'Yeah, come on,' he grabbed Draco by the waist and made an attempt at pulling him towards the door, 'I'm gonna firecall St Mungo's and ask them to send someone over right now. Yeah.'

Draco sighed inwardly and decided that a strategy of drama was in order.

He lightened his hold on Harry and swayed, letting his knees buckle. Harry was done talking and on his knees to ease Draco's fall in a heartbeat.

'Jesus, Draco, what's wrong?!'

Draco let his body flop on to the cold floor, his back resting against Harry's lap. He stretched leisurely and smiled, looking up at Potter.

'Nothing,' he said sweetly. 'It's just that you bored me with your rambling so much, I nearly fainted.'

Harry froze and stared for a moment, then closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. Draco could almost hear him counting to ten in his head. After a moment Harry opened his eyes and looked straight at him.

'Do not - ever - do that - again,' he said calmly.

Draco grinned and raised both his arms to ruffle Harry's hair.

'I won't if you stop freaking out.'

Harry scowled, but nodded.

'Good,' Draco said and looked around. He motioned towards the bath tub. 'Now, am I right in suspecting this dreadful thing which is hurting my poor eyes so much is also part of the freak-out somehow?'

Harry looked at the bath tub and nodded.

'All right,' Draco said, bracing himself. 'Question one. Why is it white?'

Harry sighed.

'It's a chromotherapy whirlpool bath.'

Draco raised his eyebrows, waiting for Harry to go on to utter any words that would actually make sense. After a moment it became clear to him that they weren't coming.

'All right... Question two. Is there anything that this Muggle atrocity does that could not be achieved with a few spells?'

Harry smirked as if he had been waiting for the question. 

'No,' he said lightly, 'but why keep your mind occupied keeping up spells when you could be giving your full attention to something else entirely?'

Draco raised his arm and ran the palm of his hand along Harry's stubbly chin, smiling indulgently.

'And how long have you been waiting to say that sentence, exactly?'

Harry huffed and batted Draco's hand away playfully. 

'No, it really is supposed to be therapeutic,' he said, standing up. 'It makes the water swirl,' Harry gestured in a round motion, 'and you can choose where the pressure comes from, so it massages different parts of your body...'

'Sold,' Draco interjected.

Harry laughed and went back to perusing the contents of the cupboard.

'I had the brochure it came with somewhere... Ah, here it is!'

Harry turned around, holding and opening a sizeable white booklet. He flipped through it, stopped at one of the pages and his eyes followed the lines of the text.

'Helps with arthritis and rheumatism...'

'We're not _that_ old...' 

'Shush. Erm... relieves stress and tension...'

'Oh, I've got some tension to relieve, all right...'

Harry smiled, still looking at the text.

'And then it can also change the colour of the water... That's why it has to be white. There are... erm... eight colours... _Violet promotes enlightenment, revelation and spiritual awakening_ ,' Harry read out from the brochure. 'It can... _soothe organs, relax muscles and calm the nervous system_. Blue... _promotes communication and knowledge_... erm... _eliminates toxins and is used to treat liver disorders_.'

Draco scoffed.

'Wait, that's not all,' Harry took a few steps and knelt back on the floor next to Draco. 'It has... five pre-set colour programmes... _vitality, tranquillity, passion, joy and inspiration_.'

'Let's go for passion...' Draco drawled, moving closer. He rubbed his hands up Harry's thighs and leaned in to kiss his neck and rub his cheek against the hard stubble.

Harry smiled and lifted the brochure, reading over Draco's head in a serious tone.

' _Accompanying your chromotherapy whirlpool bath is a set of aromatherapy ba- bath oils_ ,' Harry stuttered as Draco bit on his chin lightly, ' _designed to enhance the revitalization experience. You can choose from a variety of blends_ ,' Draco moved to the other side of Harry's neck, ' _each with its own unique properties: adventurous spirit, chocolate delight, exotic... wood_...'

'Mmm... this just gets better and better...' Draco murmured against Harry's skin and felt Harry's throat vibrate with a strangled chuckle.

Strong arms embraced him tightly, his nose painfully squished against Harry's collarbone. The top of his head was kissed repeatedly.

'Wanna try it out now?' Harry whispered into his hair.

'Well, after the tantrum you've thrown, I _am_ in dire need of therapeutic assistance.'

'Prat,' Harry scoffed, stood up and walked over to the tub.

Draco used his arms to pull himself up and onto the toilet lid. He watched Harry turn on the tap and read through the brochure for a moment as the tub started filling.

It was big, oval in shape and the only weird thing about it, really, was that the surface inside had holes fitted with strange metal elements. There were many of them, some smaller, some bigger, placed on the longer side and in the curve of the tub. Some of them were covered with glass, but Draco didn't get a closer look as the water reached them and distorted his view.

Harry moved along the length of the tub and pressed one of a set of four buttons that, Draco only now registered, were placed in the centre of the horizontal edge. Buttons. Of course. _Of course_ a Muggle bath tub would have to have buttons. He had discovered years ago that buttons were, in fact, how the poor sods compensated for the lack of wands.

The water was still running, but Draco thought he could see it swirl slightly more, and in different directions now that whatever the button was responsible for was turned on. He was far from impressed, however. Was that it? If so, Potter would have to take over most of the responsibility for the 'massaging' part.

Harry took one more look at the brochure and rotated two round metal elements protruding from the edge of the tub. There was a whooshing sound and suddenly there was air bursting from the sides of the tub and into the water, making it bubble and whirl, creating puffs of white foam beneath the surface. Draco craned his neck to get a better peek inside. All right, maybe there was actually a chance this could be pleasant.

Harry turned off the tap and, looking back at the brochure, went back to pressing the buttons, apparently in some required sequence. A second later, the glass-covered elements inside the tub lit up and the colour of the water changed to red, spreading a beautiful glow along the white sides. Draco's eyebrows shot up on their own accord and he willed them down, berating himself inwardly. Colour water. Big deal.

After a few seconds the colour smoothly changed into orange, then yellow, then green, turquoise, blue, violet and pink. When it was back to red, Draco noticed his eyebrows were drawn up again and his mouth was slightly agape. He pulled his jaw closed quickly, looking back at Harry.

Harry was standing in front of the cupboard again. The brochure was gone and he was now holding a small smoked glass bottle in each hand.

'I think I'm in the mood for some chocolate delight tonight,' he said, his tone flippant.

He set one of the bottles back on the shelf and unscrewed the other, tipping it over the tub. Almost instantly, Draco was hit with the heavy scent of chocolate.

'No exotic wood, then?' Draco asked with mock-disappointment.

'Well,' Harry closed the bottle, put it back and closed the cupboard, 'I don't know about _exotic_ , but...'

He sauntered towards Draco in what could only have been a completely ridiculous attempt at mimicking Draco's younger self's swagger. 

Draco smiled.

A moment later, he was pulled up into a standing position. He reminded himself to put all his weight on his right leg. Without a word, Harry removed Draco's shirt and knelt in front of him, pulling down Draco's bottoms down to his ankles. Draco placed his hands on Harry's shoulders for support and felt Harry's hand grasping the heel of his left foot lightly and bringing the bunched up trouser leg over it. The action left his skin strangely tingly. 

Draco looked down to see Harry smiling up at him.

'Sit.'

Draco tightened his hold on Harry's shoulders and plopped down on the toilet lid. He hissed as his buttocks hit the cold of the porcelain. 

'You all right?' Harry's tone was instantly back to worried.

'Yes, Potter,' Draco sighed. 'My ass is frozen solid, but apart from that, I'm good.'

Harry's shoulders relaxed under Draco's fingers. He held Draco's gaze and lifted his right leg, closing the ankle in a tight grip. Draco felt nails scraping down the back of his calf and stifled a gasp.

'We'll make you nice and warm in no time,' Harry said quietly.

'That's my only good leg you've got there,' Draco said, a little surprised to find his voice breaking. 'You hurt this one and you'll have to carry me around everywhere...'

'I'll be gentle,' Harry replied, removing the other leg of Draco's trousers and sending them away across the floor. 

The reply jogged Draco's memory to a certain steamy night and he suddenly found himself marvelling at the fact that it had been over fifteen years since the morning he had woken up to the terrible wheezing, groaning sound of Harry Potter's alarm clock. And to think he hadn't known what a TARDIS was back then. 

'What are you thinking about?'

Draco refocussed his gaze and saw Harry still kneeling on the floor in front of him, a small warm smile on his face.

'Doctor Who,' Draco answered.

Harry frowned and scrunched up his nose.

'Now? Am I _that_ horrible at building sexual tension?'

Draco laughed.

'You are, but that's not why,' he said, bringing his hand to Harry's cheek and giving him a short peck on the mouth. He felt Harry smiling against his lips. 'I'm cold. Help me get in?'

'Yeah.'

They stood up and moved towards the tub. Draco perched on the edge, dipping his hand in the temporarily blue water and felt the warm current tickle his skin. The scent of chocolate was sharper here and Draco inhaled deeply. He moved first his left, then his right leg inside, turning around and finally lowered himself into the water, gripping the edges of the tub on both sides with Harry supporting his shoulders and back.

The tub was big - he could lay back with his head resting against the edge and at the same time stretch his legs out fully. The current hit his feet and calves and, from the other side, his back, in strong warm bursts and he felt his muscles throb pleasantly. The water swirled gently all over the rest of his body, causing a constant tingling sensation. Taking in the rainbow of colours and the sweet scent, he breathed in and out slowly and closed his eyes.

'I am under the impression that you like our new Muggle bath tub,' Harry's voice reached him from the side after a moment.

Draco opened his eyes and saw that the bathroom was now dark with the tub being the only light source and his husband was currently standing over him, quite naked, the waves on the water reflecting on his bare skin in green. Draco stared.

'Hello? Any room there left for me?' Harry asked, amused.

'I thought the tub was meant as a tool to aid _my_ recovery,' Draco smiled wickedly, sliding his hand up his stomach and chest.

Harry took a step forward, bending down, his hand going into the water and straight between Draco's legs. 

Draco's breath hitched.

'However, in my weakened state, I seem to be easily persuaded,' he breathed out, moving forward to make space for Harry behind his back. Harry was chuckling and getting into the tub a second later.

As Harry lowered himself, Draco felt strong thighs trap his hips, a groin press against the small of his back and arms closing around his chest tightly. He melted into the embrace, looking for maximum friction with the body behind him. He pressed his back into Harry's chest and tipped his head back, resting it on Harry's shoulder, his eyes closing.

The water swirled around him pleasantly, the pressure making him aware of areas of his body he never gave much thought to even having. Harry's hands started travelling across his chest and he thought he wouldn't mind remaining in this state of things forever.

Just then Harry's fingers brushed against his left nipple and he couldn't stop a sharp intake of breath. He felt a shiver run down his spine and his cock twitch in interest. He pressed even more into Harry and felt the chest behind him rising and falling at a quickened pace. He moved his arms up and over his head to tangle his fingers in Harry's hair.

Harry was panting into his ear now, his right hand moving from one of Draco's nipples to the other, circling them, rubbing and squeezing. His left hand travelled lower, down Draco's abdomen, stopping to stroke and grip his waist. Draco could feel Harry's excitement grow as a certain pressure built, nudging against his back.

He couldn't resist the urge to tease.

'My, my, Potter,' he drawled, rubbing Harry's head. 'I have to fall ill more often if that's what it leads to...'

'Stupid sod,' Harry panted, entwining his fingers into the hair of Draco's groin and pulling gently. 'If you must know... sure, you're hot and all,' Harry nibbled Draco's ear and his voice dropped to a whisper, 'but the truth is, there's this strong water current hitting my back and going straight down my crack and it is _glorious_.'

Harry moaned softly, as if to reiterate. Draco turned his head towards him sharply.

'Get out,' he hissed. 'We're switching places.'

Harry half-chuckled, half-panted.

'In your dreams, Malfoy.'

Harry raised his legs and moved his knees over Draco's, hooking his feet under Draco's calves and pulling his legs gently to the sides. Suddenly Harry's hand was on Draco's cock, tugging and Draco's positioning dilemma was gone. His eyes closed and he arched into the touch, raising his hips, groaning. Harry's hand dropped lower, fondling his balls, but was back up a moment later, squeezing the base of Draco's cock hard. Draco moaned and pulled at Harry's hair, bringing his head closer. Harry took the hint and latched onto Draco's neck, nibbling and sucking, his lips and teeth moving from Draco's ear to his shoulder and back as his hand started pumping Draco's cock with a tight grip and a slight twist at the end of each upstroke. 

Draco opened his eyes and stared. Their bodies were submerged in a swirl of water - yellow, green, turquoise, blue - and Draco briefly wondered if this was one of those moments a silly Muggle would call 'magical'. There were arms appearing from behind him and moving across his body, familiar arms - the lines, the thick dark hair, the big hands, the thick fingers, the shape of the nails - all etched in his memory for years, but now somehow independent, fresh and that much more exciting. He opened his mouth, breathing heavily and felt the chocolaty air prickle his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut again with a stifled moan, sensing the tension building in his body, felt Harry's teeth sinking into his neck, his nipple tweaked mercilessly and then he was coming, shouting, pushing back against Harry and pulling Harry's head forwards by the hair.

When his consciousness resurfaced, he let his arms fall into the water along his sides and sagged against the wet body behind him, tipping his head back. Again, he registered the hardness pressing into his back.

'I need a moment,' he panted.

Harry laughed softly, circling his arms around Draco's chest and hugging tight.

'Yeah. Anyway, I'd like to check my head for bald spots before we go any further.'

Draco turned his head to look up at Harry. His hair was damp, even curlier than usual and in an even more horrible state of mess, but if there was any loss, Draco couldn't see it.

'You're fine,' he said, turning his head away and concentrating on evening out his breathing.

They lay silent for a while, Harry's fingertips trailing softly.

'Are you going to make me say this tub is a brilliant Muggle invention?' Draco asked finally.

Harry chuckled. 

'This just now hasn't persuaded you?' he whispered into Draco's ear. 'Scoot forward a bit.'

Harry's hands withdrew and Draco gripped the edges of the tub and pulled himself forward. He felt Harry sink deeper into the water and pull his legs up, his knees above the surface, wide apart, feet resting on Draco's thighs. A hand came creeping up Draco's spine slowly.

'What...?' Draco tried to turn around to see what Harry was doing, but he was kept in place as strong legs tightened around him.

'Stay,' Harry barked in a hoarse voice.

Harry's hand reached Draco's neck and held it in a tight grip, keeping Draco at arm's length. Draco felt water splash on his back and instantly knew what was happening.

'Oh, no, you won't,' he said sharply.

'Oh, yes, I will,' Harry panted.

Draco felt the muscles of Harry's legs tensing and relaxing and ran his hands along them, brushing the undersides of the knees, stroking the calves, squeezing the feet. He felt his own cock wake up.

'I want to see,' Draco said hotly.

The hand circling the nape of his neck tightened.

'Too bad,' Harry breathed out.

Draco bit his lip. He scraped his nails along the soles of Harry's feet, getting a heated hiss in return. He moved his hands up to play with Harry's toes.

Harry tried to wriggle them out of his reach, squirming and laughing.

'Stop!' 

'You mistreat an ill husband, you suffer,' Draco quipped.

Harry planted his feet on the bottom of the tub, level with Draco's hips.

'Give me your hand.'

'What?'

'Your hand. Move it behind your back.'

Draco twisted his right arm, moving it behind himself. His hand landed on Harry's balls and he squeezed lightly. Harry grabbed it and pushed it down. Draco's knuckles hit the bottom of the tub. 

'Put a finger inside me,' Harry panted.

'What? I don't have my...'

'Just do it,' Harry snapped.

'Harry...'

'Fuck's sake,' Harry moaned and the splashing against Draco's back became more violent.

Draco felt around, his fingertips hitting Harry's buttocks splayed against the bottom of the tub. He wriggled his finger in between them, locating Harry's entrance and circling it a few times teasingly. His arm was beginning to hurt and his wrist was twisted uncomfortably, but it was all good, because Harry was making the most delicious sounds now and his fingers were dipping into Draco's neck. 

Draco dropped his left hand to his own cock and stroked. With the middle finger of his right hand, he felt around the puckered hole and pressed in gently, just with the tip, biting his lip and hoping not to hear a hiss of pain. The tight muscle gave in and his finger sank down to the first knuckle.

'Oh, fuck,' Harry groaned, pushing his hips forward, trying to take more in.

Draco felt it in his wrist that the logistics wouldn't allow this, and he didn't think finger-fucking was an option, so he kept his finger trapped inside and wriggled it, pushing upwards.

Harry's feet squeezed his hips from both sides and the hand on Draco's neck curled painfully. 

'Oh, fuck, fuck... _fuck_ ,' Harry's strangled groans came from behind and Draco felt the muscles around his finger clench and spasm.

Harry's hand released him and travelled slowly down his back, caressing the skin.

'Oh, fuck,' Harry heaved a deep sigh.

Draco withdrew his finger, released his cock and moved his hips, turning around slightly, trying to keep his left leg stretched out.

Harry lay slumped against the curve of the tub, hand still on his cock, eyes closed, the water giving his relaxed face a soft violet glow. He opened one eye and smirked.

'So, we keeping this _Muggle atrocity_?'

Draco grinned.

'You bet your sweet wizard ass we are.'


End file.
